Kincaid had a problem.

The detective was a healthy male in his prime with his arms wrapped around a lovely, vulnerable woman in the middle of the wilderness. His body wanted more.

Even his mind, which Kincaid usually controlled ruthlessly, kept noting Sara’s softness, her scent, her slow smiles.

There was more than beauty to Sara Morgan. She was loyal and loving to those she cared about.

And she was hiding something from him.

Sara might be frightened, but if Kincaid hadn’t agreed to help her, she would have come up this mountain all alone to find her kidnapped nephew.

And because Kincaid knew what it was like to have someone you loved kidnapped and in danger, he’d agreed to help her.

Sure, she was hiding something from him. But for now, this minute, he wanted her. Plain and simple. He wanted her.

Badly.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to more juicy reads from Silhouette Special Edition. I’d like to highlight Silhouette veteran and RITA® Award finalist Teresa Hill, who has written over ten Silhouette books under the pseudonym Sally Tyler Hayes. Her second story for us, Heard It Through the Grapevine, has all the ingredients for a fast-paced read—marriage of convenience, a pregnant preacher’s daughter and a handsome hero to save the day. Teresa Hill writes, “I love this heroine because she takes a tremendous leap of faith. She hopes that her love will break down the hero’s walls, and she never holds back.” Don’t miss this touching story!

USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author Susan Mallery returns to her popular miniseries HOMETOWN HEARTBREAKERS with One in a Million. Here, a sassy single mom falls for a drop-dead-gorgeous FBI agent, but sets a few ground rules—a little romance, no strings attached. Of course, we know rules are meant to be broken! Victoria Pade delights us with The Baby Surprise, the last in her BABY TIMES THREE miniseries, in which a confirmed bachelor discovers he may be a father. With encouragement from a beautiful heroine, he feels ready to be a parent…and a husband.

The next book in Laurie Paige’s SEVEN DEVILS miniseries, The One and Only features a desirable medical assistant with a secret past who snags the attention of a very charming doctor. Judith Lyons brings us Alaskan Nights, which involves two opposites who find each other irritating, yet totally irresistible! Can these two survive a little engine trouble in the wilderness? In A Mother’s Secret, Pat Warren tells of a mother in search of her secret child and the discovery of the man of her dreams.

This month is all about love against the odds and finding that special someone when you least expect it. As you lounge in your favorite chair, lose yourself in one of these gems!

Sincerely,

Karen Taylor Richman

Senior Editor

A Mother’s Secret
Pat Warren

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my handsome, witty firstborn son, Mike,

who will probably retire before his poor old mother.

PAT WARREN,

mother of four, lives in Arizona with her travel agent husband and a lazy white cat. She’s a former newspaper columnist whose lifelong dream was to become a novelist. A strong romantic streak, a sense of humor and a keen interest in developing relationships led her to try romance novels, with which she feels very much at home.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

Sara Morgan wasn’t the kind of woman who frequented bars, especially Western bars at the edge of town. But she had to find Graham Kincaid, had to convince him to help her. Too much was at stake.

She’d checked around. His name kept coming up, but finding him was proving to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. The desk sergeant at the Scottsdale police precinct he worked out of had told her very little, except that the elusive detective was on leave. She’d learned that he had a ranch in Cave Creek just north of Phoenix, but she didn’t know exactly where, and his phone number was unlisted.

Information on the almost legendary lawman was scarce and spotty. Nearly everyone she questioned seemed very protective of his privacy, almost reverential in discussing him, as if he were some sort of folk hero who belonged to them. Not one to give up easily, Sara had persisted until she’d learned some of his habits and the names of his favorite watering holes. It wasn’t that he was a drinker, she’d been told, but rather that he loved to play pool. And Shotgun Sam’s was the in place for pool addicts.

The ample parking lot was nearly full, and the thrumming music drifting outside was loud enough to jar her teeth. Sara pulled her white BMW into the last place, next to a lamp post. Hopefully, under that small splash of light, no one would steal her hubcaps.

Then she spotted them—no less than six motorcycles with more chrome than an Art Deco showroom. Just her luck, a biker bar.

As she got out, Sara noticed there were no other buildings nearby, only open desert for miles in all directions. Terrific, she thought as she hit the button on her keychain to lock her doors. The middle of nowhere.

Residual heat from the hot June day shimmered up from the paved parking lot. Deciding there was safety in numbers, she made her way to the double doors.

A framed newspaper ad off to the left caught her attention. “Five-star rating for Shotgun Sam’s where the burgers are thick and juicy, the beer cold and icy and the pool tables always humming.” If this was Graham Kincaid’s kind of place, she had to wonder what sort of man he was.

“Kincaid’s the best,” she’d been told more than once. “He could find a needle in a haystack, and he always gets his man, dead or alive,” the desk sergeant had added. Sara shuddered at that thought and went inside.

The polished mahogany bar stretched along the left wall where a couple of old-timers slouched on stools, nursing their beers. The lighting was dim except for neon roped around the mirror behind the bar. Busy waitresses in cowboy hats, short denim skirts and white boots carried loaded trays between the dozen or so tables, all occupied. In the far right corner, a three-piece band frantically played a fast one for the half-dozen couples gyrating on the tiny dance floor. On the far side of that was an archway leading to the pool tables where several men were clustered.

For a Monday night, Shotgun Sam was doing all right.

Sara was both anxious and weary as she stepped up to the bar and waited. After a few impatient moments, the very tall, very bald bartender with a handlebar mustache and a white apron wound around his generous torso, noticed her and ambled over.

“What can I get you, little lady?” he asked, his voice soft when she’d been expecting booming. His nametag read Oscar.

“I’m looking for Graham Kincaid,” Sara told him. “Is he here tonight?”

Oscar’s eyes slid to the pool area, then narrowed as he looked back at her. “Who wants to know?”

There was that almost automatic shielding again. The man sure had a lot of friends. “My name is Sara Morgan, and I need Mr. Kincaid’s help.” She held a photo out to him.

“Detective Kincaid,” he corrected, peering at the picture she held, then at her face. “He’s on leave. He likes to be left alone.”

She swallowed a sigh, not wanting to aggravate the man. “So I’ve been told. I only need a few minutes of his time, honest.” She’d rehearsed her story repeatedly and prayed that she could pitch her case quickly if she ever found the man.

The bartender ran a hand over his bald pate as he studied her for another few seconds, then apparently decided to take a chance on her. “He’s over at the last pool table, the tall guy dressed in black.”

Relieved that she’d found him, Sara gave Oscar a smile. “Thank you.”

Carefully, she followed a waitress zigzagging through the tables, then had to maneuver around the dancers until she reached the arch. This room also was dim except for large shaded lamps hanging over each of the three pool tables. A bearded man wearing a leather vest hanging open over his naked chest studied the balls at the first table. Another with a long ponytail and low-riding jeans took his turn at the second table. Half a dozen other men stood around, some with cue sticks, others just watching. Sara moved a bit closer to get a better look at the man in question before he noticed her.

Graham Kincaid didn’t look like the real-life legend she’d expected. Granted he was tall, a couple of inches over six feet, with a rangy build and well-defined shoulders straining the seams of a black T-shirt. Much like a lot of guys. As he bent over the table to line up his shot, the woman in Sara couldn’t help noticing that he had a pair of spectacular buns snuggled into faded black jeans.

Watching closely, she saw him cock his head to one side, considering his best move, a lock of black hair falling onto his forehead. Now she saw it, the inscrutable face, a strong jaw covered with several days’ growth of dark beard. Though she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes, she’d bet they were cold and assessing.

Growing impatient, she shifted her feet, waiting for him to take his shot. At this rate, it must take him hours to play a game. The men watching were quiet, unmoving. Was that pool etiquette or was it respect for the man? she wondered. Did he have a Minnesota Fats reputation in pool halls? Or was it his line of work that lent him that respectful, enigmatic edge?

Sara knew Graham Kincaid had been an FBI profiler for several years, then a Phoenix homicide detective and now he headed the Arizona Special Unit on Missing Persons. She’d also found out that he’d been placed on leave of absence by his captain because of something that had happened a while ago. But no one would say what or when or who’d been involved. She figured that after some idle time, he might be ready for action.

She prayed she was right.

Finally he narrowed his gaze, lining up his cue stick just right and…and stayed there, crouched low, not moving. Enough already, Sara thought, and approached him from the side.

“Are you Graham Kincaid?” she asked loud enough to be heard over the music, just as his cue stick slammed forward. The balls went scooting all over the table, but none went into a pocket.

Slowly he straightened and turned to Sara. “You made me miss my shot,” he said in a deep, annoyed voice.

“Did I? I’m sorry, but I really need to talk with you.”

She’d been right, his eyes were steely gray and cool as he looked her up and down.

“That so? Well, I don’t need to talk with someone who doesn’t know enough to stay back when a man’s about to take a shot.”

Sara was not intimidated. “I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah. Now go away.” He picked up a piece of chalk and started rubbing the end of his cue stick.

“Please, I really need your help,” she insisted. She tried not to notice the men standing around listening to their exchange. Graham’s opponent took a shot and missed by a mile, probably too engrossed in the little drama to take better aim.

“I’m on leave of absence,” he told her, his eyes averted.

Undaunted, Sara went on. She had to make him understand. “My name is Sara Morgan, and there’s a young boy missing. His name is Mike, and he’s twelve years old.”

A muscle in Graham’s cheek clenched. “Lots of young people go missing every day, every year.”

Her voice softened as she stepped closer to him. “This one’s special.”

“They’re all special,” he said, then leaned down, lining up his next shot.

Frustrated but determined, Sara took a picture from her shoulder bag and tossed it onto the green felt next to the white ball.

Despite his irritation with the persistent woman, Kincaid’s eyes moved to the picture. A close-up head shot of a young blond boy, mischief radiating from his blue eyes. Kincaid sucked in a swift breath as the image hit home, the eyes reminding him of another young boy who’d been missing.

Straightening, he studied the woman looking up at him with a similar pair of blue eyes, beseeching yet refusing to let the tears fall. Her lips were full and on the verge of trembling. Her long blond hair was pulled back and anchored at her nape with some sort of clip. She was small, with a willowy figure, yet even in jeans and a man-tailored white shirt, she looked decidedly feminine. Sara Morgan was quite a package.

But he wasn’t buying.

He held the picture out to her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

Her shoulders sagged fractionally, then rallied. “I’d be willing to pay you.” She had no idea what the going rate was, but she’d pay almost anything to get Mike back safely.

He looked vaguely offended. “I have a job. I don’t need your money.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that I’m feeling a little desperate here and….”

“You can report a missing child to the police if he’s been gone twenty-four hours. You’d be better off doing that.” He turned back to his game.

She stared at his back for several minutes, barely contained fury building at the callous way he’d dismissed her. “I guess they were wrong, the people who said you were the best, the one man who could help me. Have a great game, Detective.” Head held high, she left the bar.

Outside, Sara’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes stung from tears held back too long. She’d gone about it all wrong, she supposed. She should have coaxed, wheedled, turned on the charm. But it simply wasn’t in her to beg. If she couldn’t convince him honestly, she’d simply have to find someone else. Surely Detective Graham Kincaid wasn’t the only man on the planet capable of finding Mike. There had to be someone else, a man of compassion who would listen and help her. She was back to square one, but she’d manage.

Sara Morgan was a woman who did what she had to do. She wouldn’t rest until she reached her goal.

Inside, in the dim light over the pool table, Kincaid studied the picture the woman had left behind. He could feel the familiar tug, the questions already forming in his mind. Then he remembered another time and place, another boy.

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t allow himself to be pulled in again. Maybe one day, but not now.

His mouth a grim line, he turned back to his game.

Sara loved the summer mornings in Arizona the best. She liked to get up at dawn, shower and brew a pot of coffee, then take that first cup out onto the balcony of her Scottsdale condo where she’d watch the sun come up. The following morning, after a restless night, she was out there as usual, waiting for the coffee to finish, listening to the birds chirping as they flew from branch to branch in the large olive tree nearby. Today the busy sounds they made didn’t cheer her.

She had to come up with another plan and quickly.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon as her neighbor, Nick Prescott, stopped on the sidewalk one floor down and called out a greeting. “Hey, Sara, are we climbing today?” he asked, looking up.

Several times a week, she and Nick and a few of the other singles in the complex would pile into Nick’s Jeep and drive to Camelback Mountain, then set out to climb, usually Echo Canyon Trail. Still in her robe, Sara hadn’t planned on going today. She had too much on her mind.

Moving to the railing, she shook her head. “Not for me today, but thanks. Catch you later in the week.”

Nick gave her a wave and jogged off in the direction of the parking lot.

Sitting back down, Sara frowned, wondering what she was going to do. She had to make a revised plan now that she’d struck out with Graham Kincaid. She’d tossed and turned half the night, but hadn’t come up with a viable solution.

She should probably go talk with her sister again. Sara had the distinct feeling that Meg hadn’t told her everything.

There were few other options, slim and not necessarily productive. Sara had thought working with the detective, bouncing her ideas off him, listening to his ideas after years of experience, they’d come up with a plan to find Mike. But alone, she felt overwhelmed. After all, she ran a boutique; she wasn’t a cop.

Rising, her thoughts agitated, she wandered to the living room. Pausing by the end table next to her favorite chair, she picked up Mike’s picture. A sudden rush of tears clouded her vision as she studied the dear, familiar face.

“Mike, Mike, where are you, sweetie?” Setting the picture down, she choked back a sob. “Oh, Lord, I just have to find you,” she whispered, nervously fingering her pearl bracelet with a gold heart engraved with the words I Love You, a gift from her nephew.

The doorbell startled her. Dabbing her eyes with a tissue, she cleared her throat and wondered who’d be looking for her this early. Maybe Nick had returned to coax her into joining him.

The bell rang again. Tightening the belt of her robe, Sara walked to the door and opened it.

“Good morning. For a minute there, I thought you were already up and gone.” Graham Kincaid, carrying a fragrant Krispy Kreme bag, strolled in right past her and headed for the kitchen as if he belonged there.

Stunned, Sara slowly closed the door and trailed after him. She was unprepared for her reaction to his physical presence in her home, those wide shoulders and that lean face, the lingering scent of soap. “You shaved,” she said, then chastised herself for the idiotic comment.

“Yeah, I do that from time to time.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“You forget I’m a cop?” Digging in the sack, he removed two cups of steaming coffee followed by two doughnuts on napkins. “You have a choice of glazed or chocolate.” He finally stopped to look at her shower-fresh face devoid of makeup and was surprised that she was just as lovely as he remembered. Maybe more. Except for the strain around her eyes. “Which one do you want?” he asked, indicating the doughnuts.

As she recovered from the shock of seeing him, Sara decided he must have had a change of heart. Why else would he come to see her? “Chocolate, of course,” she said, taking the doughnut over to the small glass-topped chrome table by the window and sitting down.

Kincaid followed, bringing the cups. “Not your ordinary coffee, these. Latte, if you please.” That hard mouth shifted into a quick smile as he removed the lids.

The smile changed his whole face, Sara thought, making him more human, adding a sexy edge. “To say that I’m surprised to see you would be a gross understatement, Graham,” Sara told him. “May I call you Graham?”

“Not if you want me to answer. I was named after my grandfather. I was real fond of him, but I can’t stand the name. Everyone calls me Kincaid.” Taking a large bite of the sugary confection, he leaned back and momentarily closed his eyes in satisfaction. “I only let myself buy these every couple of months because I could eat a whole dozen all by myself. ’Course I’d soon be big as a house.”

Glancing at his lean frame dressed in a navy Polo shirt and tan slacks, she doubted that and told him so.

“It’s true. My brother, Ken, is a couple of inches shorter than me and weighs around three hundred. He’s a farmer in the Midwest and lives to eat. Literally. His wife, on the other hand, is thin as a shadow.”

Inhaling the delicious latte fragrance, Sara was skeptical. “Is that a Jack Spratt story?”

Swallowing, he nodded and gave her that killer smile again. “Kinda, yeah.” Finishing the last bite, he wiped his mouth, then took a sip of his latte. “You left that picture with me on purpose last night, didn’t you? You wanted to see if the boy would get to me, right?”

He didn’t let his emotions show on his face, but Kincaid had spent a restive night, the boy’s face intruding on his dreams, those laughing blue eyes pleading. Just like the face of the other boy whose picture was in Kincaid’s wallet, a haunting reminder. Could he let himself be drawn into another search? And the bigger question, how could he not help if there was even a small chance of finding the boy?

“Actually, I didn’t plan to leave it,” Sara answered, “but when I remembered that I had, I hoped looking at Mike might cause you to reconsider.”

He took the picture out of his shirt pocket. “Good-looking boy. He’s got your coloring. Your son, I take it.”

“No, my nephew. My sister, Meg, and her husband, Lenny, are his parents. The three of us are blond and blue-eyed, only Lenny’s dark-haired.”

“I see. How long has Mike been missing?”

Sara pushed back her hair with both hands, her expression thoughtful. “I’m not sure, exactly.”

That stopped him. “All right. Did he just fail to return from school or somewhere else? Did the parents come home and find him gone? Is he unhappy, possibly a runaway? Twelve is a little old to be snatched by a stranger, but not out of the question.”

Kincaid crossed his long legs. There was a story here. There was always a story. “Maybe you’d better start from the beginning.”

“I’ll try.” Sara gazed down at the paper cup between her hands, finding it oddly difficult to think clearly with those sharp, intelligent eyes on hers. “My sister called me Sunday and said she was worried. It seems that the day before, she’d been out running errands and returned home to find a note from her husband saying he was taking Mike on a surprise trip to celebrate his graduation from grade school and starting junior high in the fall. Friday was the last day of school for the semester.”

“Does Lenny do this often, surprise trips, not keeping his wife in the loop?”

“Well, I know he’s impulsive. Last summer, he spent a small fortune on fishing gear, a tent, camping stuff and took Mike to Roosevelt Lake to fish. Meg wasn’t invited along and she was angry with him. So she went out and bought a big-screen TV and a VCR.”

Irresponsible. Hell of an example for a kid, Kincaid thought. “Do they have that kind of money?”

Sara sighed, uncomfortable with having to reveal so much about her family. But she had been concerned for some time about Mike’s home life, and wondered now if something had happened to cause Lenny to go off with the boy. “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“Not sure of much, are you?” he asked, wondering when she was going to start telling him the truth. She was busily shredding a napkin in her anxiety, her eyes downcast. People who didn’t look you in the eye were usually hiding something.

“I need to go back further and explain that our parents were killed in a terrible auto accident when I was twelve and Meg just twenty-one. We were on our way home from Meg’s graduation from ASU. I was in the back seat when a drunk driver lost control of his car and hit us head-on. Mom and Dad died instantly and I was in the hospital for several weeks. I even missed the funeral. When I was released, Meg became both mother and father to me, literally putting her life on hold to raise me. I owe her a lot.”

Apparently that was why she wanted so badly to help her sister get her son back now, Kincaid decided. “Did she work back then or was there insurance money?” He needed to get an overview of the family dynamics.

“Both.” Relaxing fractionally, Sara leaned back. “Dad owned an insurance agency and had a lot of personal insurance, plus the house was free and clear. So I went to school and then on to college, and Meg went to work at Macy’s. She got me a job there summers and after school, which is when I got interested in fashion.”

“You’re still there?”

“No. Four years ago, I opened a boutique on Scottsdale Road, Sara’s Closet. I have plans for a second store, but…well, I have to concentrate on finding Mike right now.”

“So you’re close to your nephew?”

“Yes, very.”

Kincaid thought she was unaware of the sad smile on her lips as she spoke of the boy.

Sara decided she’d best tell him the rest. “Meg married Lenny a year after our folks died. He moved into the house with us. Meg often talked about wanting a child, but I don’t think Lenny was quite as enthusiastic. When Mike was born, Meg quit her job after some sort of back injury. She chose to stay home and be a full-time mother. I attended ASU but I lived at home and spent a lot of time with Mike. He’s a wonderful boy, bright and funny and handsome.”

Love for the boy radiated from her like the warm sunshine drifting in through the window. “I can see you dote on him. What about Meg and Lenny…are they loving parents?”

Sara glanced up quickly, her eyes suspicious. “Why are you asking?”

Kincaid shrugged. “Not all parents are.”

Sara wondered just how much she should reveal. “As I said, Meg really wanted a child and was thrilled when Mike was born. Lenny’s a bit of a strict disciplinarian. Maybe because he’s a cop.”

Maybe the father had been a little too strict and the boy had run away from home. And maybe both mother and aunt hadn’t caught the signs. He needed to know more. “A cop, eh? What precinct does he work out of?”

“Mesa, where they live,” she said, naming a suburb south of Phoenix.

“Do you know what his rank is?” Kincaid knew a lot of officers and had heard of even more, but he’d never run across the name Lenny Nelson.

“I believe he’s currently a patrolman, with a partner, somewhere in Mesa.”

“Currently?”

Sara shook her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s sort of a jack-of-all-trades, has trouble holding down a job, gets restless. He’s been a truck driver, mechanic, exterminator, landscaper. He quits after a few months because the people in charge are all stupid, according to Lenny. He’s been with the police department for nearly two years, a record of sorts.”

Interesting. But obviously not against the law. Was this lovely woman an overreactor, making a mountain out of a molehill? Kincaid hadn’t had time this morning to check her out, but he would.

“Is Mike an only child?”

“Yes.”

He watched her put the shredded tissue into the nearby trash can, her hands trembling slightly. From worry and strain? Or something else, he wondered.

“So when did you move out of the family home and why?”

Sara frowned, annoyed at the question. “I don’t see what that has to do with all this, but, if you must know, I moved out after college. I wanted to be on my own. I was making good money as a buyer for Macy’s and I had some investments from my folks’ estate, so I bought this condo.” That was the truth, as far as it went, Sara thought, her eyes downcast once more. She didn’t see any point in revealing that a strain had developed between her and Lenny, mostly over Mike, so she’d left, thinking it would be better for the boy if there wasn’t so much noticeable tension. And Meg always took Lenny’s side. Mike was sensitive and picked up on their discord.

Kincaid took a moment to glance around, noticing that her home was not extravagantly decorated but done in good taste with fairly expensive furniture, the location in a neighborhood of upwardly mobile families, probably a fair share of singles with good jobs.

“Did Mike mind you moving out?” he asked, watching her face.

“A little. But I fixed up my spare room for him here, and he often spends weekends with me.” A frown came and went as Sara wondered if he ever would again.

Her expression suddenly imploring, she looked up. “You’ve just got to find him.” Was he just playing with her by asking all these questions or was he really going to help her? “I want to hire you to find Mike.”

“Not so fast.” Kincaid shifted in his chair. Her robe wasn’t in the least revealing, but he sensed she wore nothing underneath as her fragrant, after-shower warmth drifted to him. He reached into his pocket and took out a lemon drop, popped it into his mouth. With no small effort, he jerked his attention back to the missing boy. “For one thing, as I told you last night, I have a job. I work for the public under the auspices of the police department. But I think you already know that.” He narrowed his gaze, aware that she’d undoubtedly looked into his background and checked his credentials. She appeared to be thorough, methodical. “I’m curious. Why me?”

“Because I did check you out, talked to a lot of people and, quite simply, everyone says you’re the best. I also recall seeing one of your high-profile cases on television a while back on one of those news shows. I know you have broad authority in the police department because of your years of experience and your success rate.” She paused to take a calming breath. “I’m aware that you’re on leave, for whatever reason, so I’m willing to pay for your time.”

He shook his head. “Money’s not the issue here. I don’t take every case. There are other investigators who work with me, under my supervision. If I take a case, I have to believe the adults responsible for the child, to know that they’re telling the truth so I can figure out how things happened and where to begin the search.” Leaning his forearms on the table, he met her worried gaze. “So now that I’ve got the background, tell me about how you learned that Mike was missing.”

Sara gathered her thoughts. “Meg wasn’t upset when she first read Lenny’s note because, as I’ve said, Lenny is impulsive. However, he hadn’t even hinted where they were going, only told her not to worry. By Sunday evening when she still hadn’t heard from him, she started making a few calls. To hospitals and the police to see if they’d been in an accident, to Mike’s friends in case he’d mentioned the trip to one of them. She got nowhere so she called me. Now, here it is Tuesday morning and still no word.”

Kincaid tried to keep his face expressionless. He didn’t like wild-goose chases. “You realize that the boy isn’t really missing, in the literal sense. He’s with his father.”

Sara struggled to find the right words to convince him to help her. “Did I tell you that Mike has allergies? When I went to talk to Meg, we checked his room and he hadn’t taken his allergy pills and only a few clothes were missing. That would indicate a short trip, but he’s been gone four days.”

Frowning, Kincaid tried to make sense of it. “Surely Lenny is aware of Mike’s allergies, the medication he needs. As his father, he could get another prescription, if necessary.”

“Lenny’s careless about such things. He once took Mike camping up a mountain trail in the spring when all the new growth was out on the trees and shrubs. Mike had a bad attack, had to be taken to a hospital for a shot of adrenaline when Lenny finally got him home. Lenny dismissed the whole incident, said that Meg and I spoil Mike, that we’re making him into a sissy… His word.”

“A real macho guy, eh?” Kincaid had seen more than his share of guys like that.

“Yes, the big jerk. He was furious that Mike didn’t make his school’s football team.”

“You don’t get along all that well with Lenny, eh?”

She’d revealed more than she’d intended, Sara realized, but it was the truth. “I put up with him or I’d never get to see Mike.”

“And your sister, what does she think about Lenny?”

Sighing, Sara shook her head. “I don’t honestly know.” Privately, she thought that Meg had married Lenny so he’d help her take care of Sara through the difficult teen years and that Lenny married Meg for the free rent and a share of the family estate. But she wasn’t about to air all their dirty laundry to this virtual stranger. Besides, it was just her opinion.

Kincaid stared out the window thoughtfully. There was more here than she was telling him, and he wondered what. Still, they hadn’t come up with a motive for Lenny taking his son on a mysterious trip. “Do you know if Lenny and Meg are having problems? Is the marriage good? Could he have taken their son to deliberately worry her, to get even for something she did?”

Sara didn’t look at him, appearing evasive. “I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not exactly a match made in heaven, but they seem okay. Meg doesn’t complain to me, and he certainly wouldn’t.”

“Lenny’s not violent, never hit Mike or Meg?”

Her eyes widened at the suggestion. “Not that I know of. No, I’m sure Mike would have told me.”

“How’s the money situation between them? You mentioned that Meg hasn’t worked since the boy was born and Lenny drifts from job to job. Doesn’t seem as if he stays long enough in one place to warrant a decent salary.”

“Meg and I both have a trust fund from our parents’ estate, which was considerable. After age twenty-five, we could use the money any way we saw fit. I don’t know how much Meg’s taken out of hers, if any. She’s very frugal. They don’t live lavishly. They’re still in our parents’ home, which is very nice and half mine if they were to sell it…although I wouldn’t take my share. As far as I’m concerned, it all belongs to Meg for taking care of me all those years. A while back Meg wanted to sell it, but I nixed her idea. I didn’t think it would be good for Mike to change schools or leave all his friends.”

A fair woman and compassionate. Kincaid rose, stretched and walked to the window. Purple bougainvillea bloomed along a wide stucco fence, looking perfect as a painting under a cloudless morning sky. Nice yard, nice home and a nice woman.

But he couldn’t help her.

Turning back to face her, he leaned against the wall. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Sara, but I don’t think there’s a problem here. It’s not a case of a runaway or a kidnapping. You say that Lenny’s never hurt the boy so Mike’s not at risk. You indicate that the three of them get along fairly well together. There’s no crime and no motive here. While I think it’s irresponsible of Lenny to take the boy and not keep in touch with his wife, it’s not against the law. I think it’s simply what it appears to be, a father taking his son on a surprise trip and perhaps they’re having such a good time they haven’t gotten around to calling home.”

He pushed away from the wall, deciding it was time to leave. “Give it a few more days, Sara. Chances are they’ll be back by then or Lenny will call.”

Sara had thought she could get Kincaid to help her without revealing more, but apparently not. He’d probably find out, anyway. “Maybe I should tell you the rest,” Sara said quietly.

Frowning, he sat down at the table, facing her. “All right, what’s the rest?”

“I called and talked to one of the officers at the Mesa Police Department where Lenny works. After much hemming and hawing, he told me that Lenny had been relieved of duty almost two weeks ago pending an investigation into allegations of improprieties.”

Chapter Two

Sara couldn’t look away from Kincaid’s eyes, which were studying her as if she were a bug under a microscope. Undoubtedly he was trying to see into her mind. In the bright, morning sunlight, his eyes were more green than gray. She wondered what he was thinking, worried again that she’d blown it by withholding information. Emotions had clouded her actions from the beginning of this whole affair.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t tell me this interesting little fact about Mike’s father before now?” he asked, his voice even. He couldn’t seem to get a fix on this woman with the big, beautiful eyes that seemed to hide a fair amount of secrets.

“I’m sorry,” Sara said finally. “I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t think his job status had anything to do with Mike’s disappearance.” And she’d planned to share only what was necessary.

“Mmm-hmm. And now suddenly you do?” He paused, thinking. “Let’s see. We have here a child taken on an unexpected trip by a father who can’t seem to hold down a job. The man is married to a woman who has a trust fund, but they live frugally, and now he’s accused of improprieties. Your word. At the worst, he’s a thief. At the very least, he’s guilty of poor judgment.”

“He’s not the brightest man I’ve ever met,” she offered.

“Are you going to eat your doughnut?” It occurred to Kincaid that he’d skipped dinner last night.

Sara pushed the napkin and doughnut closer to him. “No, go ahead, please.”

He took a big bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Did you say your sister went to college?”

“Yes, she graduated from ASU.”

“Where did she meet Lenny?”

“On a blind date. Later she hired him to do some minor repairs on the house.”

“A handyman? Doesn’t seem like he’s in her league.” Not if her sister was anything like Sara. “Is he handsome, charming, a life-of-the-party type?” There had to be some reason Meg fell for him, although who could ever say why one person was attracted to another?

Sara shrugged. “He’s not bad looking, in a rough sort of way. Medium height, brown hair, mustache. I’ll get a picture of him for you if you want. To be honest, I think, at twenty-one, Meg was overwhelmed at the thought of caring for a twelve-year-old all alone and married the first man who showed an interest.”

“They were married five years or so before they had Mike, right? Did they seem happy?”

She rose to put her paper cup in the trash container. “I was a teenager back then, pretty self-absorbed, and I’d just lost my parents. I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to their relationship. Besides, I’ve never been married, so how would I know what constitutes a happy marriage?”

Never been married. Why was he pleased to hear that? Wait a minute, Kincaid. The last thing you need is to get tangled up again, no matter how attractive she is. He brought his attention back to the matter at hand. “Maybe because you lived under the same roof with them and might have seen or heard something?” She struck him as intelligent and observant. Was she covering up something?

“I guess they were happy, from what I could tell. They quarreled occasionally, but I suppose that’s normal. What does the state of their marriage have to do with Mike being missing?”

Kincaid finished the second doughnut, drank the rest of his coffee and stood. “Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. I’ll know more after I talk with your sister. And Lenny’s commanding officer.”

Sara brightened immediately. “That means you’re taking the case?”

“That means I’ll let you know after I find out more. I’ll be in touch.” He walked out of the kitchen.

“Wait a minute!” Sara hurried after him. “I’m going with you.”

At the door, he swung about. “Sorry, but I work alone.”

She put on her most convincing expression, her most appealing smile. “Please, Kincaid, I need to do this. Mike…he means the world to me. I’ve arranged for time away from my business. I promise I won’t get in your way, and I might just be a big help.”

The day pigs fly, he thought, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. Silently he stared at her, eyes narrowed, hoping she’d back down. Many had, but she didn’t.

“All right, I’ll agree to this much. You can come along for now, but if I find you’re slowing me down or if it becomes dangerous, you’re off the case. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She’d make sure she became invaluable to him. After all, she knew both Lenny and Mike, to say nothing of Meg. “I’ll change and be right with you.” With that, she hurried down the hall to the farthest room and closed the door behind her.

Curious, Kincaid strolled to the other open bedroom door next to Sara’s. Typical boy’s room—maple wagon-wheel bed, dresser and desk, a small television set on a shelf with a Playstation alongside it and a bookcase brimming with paperbacks, comics and all the Harry Potter books. On a stand under the window was an aquarium where two turtles dozed on rocks. Thanks to Aunt Sara, the kid had all the bells and whistles here, if not at home. Small wonder he liked to spend weekends with her.

Kincaid strolled back to the neat living room. He wondered if he’d just made a huge mistake in letting Sara come along. Of course, he’d probably discover in the first interview or two that there really was no missing boy, just some family problems. Still, the fact that Lenny had been suspended from the police department under a cloud of suspicion made Kincaid decide to look into the case before casually dismissing it.

And spending time with the boy’s lovely blond aunt wouldn’t exactly be a hardship.

Meg Nelson looked very little like her sister, Kincaid thought as she opened the front door of a two-story stucco house that badly needed painting, situated on a quiet residential street in Mesa. She was about the same height as Sara, but there the resemblance ended, since even the color of her blond hair was washed-out. She’d managed to pick up about fifty extra pounds, visible even in her loose-fitting dress.

Her pale-blue eyes skimmed over Kincaid, then settled on Sara. “You didn’t say you were bringing someone,” she said, her tone suspicious as she stood blocking the entrance.

“Kincaid’s a specialist in finding lost children,” Sara said.

Her annoyed gaze returned to Kincaid. “Are you a cop? Lenny’s going to be real upset if you called the cops on him, Sara. I mean, he’s an officer himself.”

It would seem that she didn’t know about Lenny’s suspension. Sara jumped in before Kincaid could answer. “We’ve got to find them, Meg, and we can’t do it alone. You do want to get Mike back, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she snapped, then stepped back. Bristling, she walked over to a gold lounge chair and picked up her needlework.

Irritated with her sister, Sara led the way into the sunny living room. They sat down on the couch opposite Meg.

Kincaid knew he had to placate the frowning woman. “I appreciate your hesitation, Mrs. Nelson, but I assure you that with your cooperation, we have a better chance of finding your son and husband.”

Meg sighed, then seemed to relax fractionally. “What do you want to know?”

“I’d like you to tell me just how this situation developed.”

“Hasn’t Sara told you already?”

“I’d like to hear it from you. After all, you’re the wife and mother.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Meg began her story, which matched what Sara had told him. As Meg spoke, eyes on her needlework, Kincaid glanced around. The place was clean, but the hardwood floors needed sanding and polishing. The faded Persian rug could almost be labeled shabby, and the old-fashioned furniture had probably been there when her parents had been alive nearly twenty years ago. But there was a huge television set on the opposite wall, and through the archway a state-of-the-art pool table dominated the dining room. His hands itched to pick up a cue stick and try it out. It would seem the Nelsons had a fair number of grown-up toys, but the house and its furnishings seemed neglected. Interesting.

He took a moment to study the woman as she dribbled the facts to him slowly, almost dispassionately. Odd how she was far less emotional than Sara about Mike’s disappearance. She could have been reciting the plot of a book she’d read. Perhaps she didn’t feel her son was in danger.

When Meg finished, she didn’t look up, but drew in a deep, quivery breath and waited.

“Mrs. Nelson, do you feel your son is in imminent danger, even though he’s with his father?” Kincaid asked.

Again Meg glanced at Sara, obviously irritated at the question. “Lenny wouldn’t hurt Mike. That I know.” Her voice had a defensive tone as she went back to her sewing.

“Has Lenny done this before, taken Mike on unexpected trips?”

“Not exactly, but they’ve gone fishing without me.”

Sara watched and listened, wondering why her sister was being so difficult and almost evasive. However, since she’d moved out, she and Meg were no longer close. They never had been really, given nearly a decade’s age difference

Meg looked up, meeting Kincaid’s questioning gaze. “Lenny likes to do things on the spur of the moment. He says life is more fun if you don’t have every minute planned. I’ve always liked that about him. Some people get stuck in ruts, always working, never enjoying life.” She bent to her sewing, but not before sending Sara a sharp look.

Kincaid caught the accusatory glance Meg aimed at her sister. Was there animosity between the two, and what, if anything, did that have to do with the missing boy?

“I understand Lenny left a note. Could we see it?” Kincaid asked.

Meg huffed, but she got up and walked to a small desk in the corner, then came back with the note, which she handed to Sara, not Kincaid.

Sara unfolded the single sheet and held it so that Kincaid could read it, as well.

It was terse and to the point. “Meg—Mike and I decided to go on a little trip. Don’t know how long we’ll be gone. I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry about us. Lenny.”

The handwriting was sloppy and uneven, as if the writer had been in a hurry. “Why do you suppose Lenny didn’t tell you before they left?” Kincaid watched her closely.

Meg’s lips became a thin line, as if she was annoyed. Or was it embarrassed? “Mike had been pestering Lenny to go on a vacation like Disneyland or camping since school let out, even though we don’t have the money for that sort of thing. Maybe Lenny thought it was time for some father-son quality time.”

“I see,” he said, though he didn’t. From what Sara had indicated, Lenny didn’t strike him as father of the year. “So then, you don’t think there’s any reason to be worried about Mike being gone like this? I mean, you did call Sara, expressing concern, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I called her, but I had no idea she’d call in the cops. That wasn’t necessary, not at all.”

“Can we look through Mike’s room, see what he packed, maybe get an idea of where they went?” Kincaid asked.

“No. I’m not having a stranger prowling through my son’s things. Sara already did that.”

Seated on the couch, Kincaid looked at Sara beside him, at a loss over Meg’s cool acceptance of the situation and her almost belligerent attitude in contrast to her sister’s heartfelt plea. Raising his brows, he invited Sara’s response.

Taking her cue, Sara cleared her throat. Maybe she could get through to her sister. “Meg, how are you and Lenny getting along these days?”

Meg looked up, her expression suddenly hostile. “Fine. We have an occasional disagreement. Husbands and wives quarrel now and then, Sara. If you were able to keep a man interested in you long enough to have a real relationship, you’d know that. All you do is work, work, work. And spoil Mike so he sasses me.” She stood, abruptly clutching her needlework as she glared at her sister. “I asked you to help find my son, not to analyze my marriage. And I’m not happy that you brought a stranger, a detective, in on our troubles. I should think you’d remember that you owe me. You owe me plenty.”

Running out of steam, Meg turned and marched down the hallway surprisingly fast for a heavyset woman. In moments a door slammed shut.

Stunned, Sara sat back, heat moving into her face. Grasping for composure, she tried to make light of Meg’s outburst. “That went well, don’t you think?”

Kincaid stood, walked to the fireplace, giving Sara a moment to collect herself. What had caused her sister to react with such an outburst? Apparently, Meg felt that Sara still owed her for all those years she lived here. Finally he turned. “I guess I didn’t ask how you and your sister get along.”

She shook her head. “Fairly well, I thought, until now. I…she’s always had a sharp tongue, but she’s never been quite so mean-spirited.”

“Sounds like she’s envious of your relationship with her son.”

Sara rose, brushing back her hair. “I suppose she’s got a point. I do spoil Mike. He’s such a good kid, so smart. I reward him for good grades, for making the swim team. I take him to ball games, out to dinner, hiking and camping, bought him a ten-speed bike, things like that. I promised I’d take him to Disneyland this summer. Meg is too thrifty to do anything frivolous or fun, so I take up the slack. Still, I had no idea she felt such animosity toward me.”

“She also skirted the original question you asked her about how she and Lenny get along. Do you think they do a fair amount of fighting where Mike can overhear them?”

There was no use evading this any longer. “Probably. They certainly did when I lived here.”

Which was likely the real reason Sara had moved out. “Let’s try a scenario on for size,” Kincaid said, leading her outside. “Let’s assume that Meg and Lenny had a quarrel that Mike overheard. Perhaps the boy was upset, so Lenny decided to take him on that surprise trip, maybe while Meg left to run errands. Maybe Lenny wanted to worry her so she’d stop picking on him.” They reached his silver Explorer, and Kincaid turned to face her. “And maybe he intends to return after he thinks she’s learned her lesson.”

“Or maybe not,” Sara said, unconvinced. “Look, I don’t think Lenny wants to leave the Golden Goose. With the police department, he’s got a real job with potential, for a change, but obviously he hasn’t worked very hard to keep it or he wouldn’t have gotten suspended. He’s got it pretty good over here, so I’m not sure he’d risk getting Meg too angry.”

“Because she controls the money?”

Squinting in the glare, Sara slipped on her sunglasses. “Oh, yes. She’s told me she has him give her his entire paycheck, such as it is, then takes care of all the bills and gives him a monthly allowance, if you can believe it. If he runs out of money before the month ends, too bad. She used to give me an allowance when I lived with them, before I got a job and before I came into my own inheritance. I don’t know if she’s afraid the money will run out or whether it’s a means of control.”

“I vote for door number two.” Kincaid helped her into the Explorer before walking around and sliding behind the wheel.

“I just remembered,” Sara began, “Lenny came to me several weeks ago and wanted to borrow some money. Twenty thousand. I asked him why he wanted that much, and he said it was for some kind of investment opportunity, a sure thing. I’ve never trusted that sort of thing, so I turned him down and told him to ask Meg for the money. He said no, he couldn’t do that, and asked me not to mention his request to his wife.”

“Did you tell Meg?”

“No.”

“It seems as if we’ve discovered a motive for Lenny’s disappearance—to get away from a nagging, frugal wife. But why take the boy?”

“That’s what bothers me. I don’t buy this father-son quality time Meg mentioned. Lenny was hardly a hands-on father except when it suited him.” Leaning back, Sara closed her eyes. What a mess. She wished Lenny was here right now so she could punch him for using Mike to play games.

Rubbing her forehead, where a headache was beginning, she felt defeated. “I guess you’ll chalk this up as another domestic feud, eh?”

He probably should, Kincaid knew. But a couple of things worried him. First, the boy’s mother didn’t seem nearly as upset over her son’s disappearance as his aunt was. Instead Meg was vague and defensive, downright belligerent to the people who were trying to help her. Secondly, Sara Morgan didn’t strike him as someone who’d blow a situation out of proportion. She seemed genuinely worried.

Maybe it would turn out to be a wild-goose chase. Despite his reluctance, if there was the slightest chance that the smiling boy was in danger, Kincaid felt he should try. After all, he did have the time.

“Not just yet.” He started the motor. “I’d like to talk with Lenny’s superior officer at the Mesa Police Department first. Want to come along?”

Hope flared in her just that easily. “Yes,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

For the life of him, Kincaid didn’t know what impulse made him ask her along. Could it be those big blue eyes imploring him?

Lieutenant James Anderson was a stocky, ruddy-faced man in shirtsleeves and paisley suspenders. He looked at Kincaid’s ID and quickly ushered them into his office, closing the door.

“I’ve heard of you, Detective Kincaid. You do good work.” Anderson sat down in his swivel chair. “I was sorry to hear about that case where—”

“Thank you,” Kincaid interrupted quickly. He had no intention of going into that.

“What can I do for you?”

He introduced Sara. “Her sister, Meg, is married to Lenny Nelson. I believe he works out of this precinct?”

The chair squeaked in protest as the big man leaned back. “Used to. He’s on suspension.”

“So I heard, for improprieties, I understand. Could you be more specific, sir?”

The lieutenant’s hooded eyes narrowed. “What’s this about?”

Quickly Kincaid explained the major points. “Naturally, we respect the confidentiality of the people involved, but I need to know if Lenny Nelson could pose a danger to his son. As I mentioned, they’ve been gone for several days, and no one knows their whereabouts, not even the boy’s mother.”

Anderson frowned as he shifted forward and checked a folder. “Nelson’s supposed to appear next Monday for an internal affairs hearing.” He sat for a moment, thoughtful. “I assume this goes no further?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Nelson’s facing allegations that he stole property from the evidence room and sold it. All from old, unsolved cases, mostly forgotten, growing dusty in bins. Been going on awhile, from what we’ve determined so far.”

A man apparently in need of money for whatever purpose, unable to pry more loose from his tight-fisted wife, probably not earning a great deal, stealing and fencing, facing a likely indictment, Kincaid enumerated to himself. That kind of man could be desperate, volatile, unpredictable.

And he was off somewhere with an innocent twelve-year-old boy.

He glanced at Sara and saw she’d turned pale as she, too, had come to the same conclusion.

“And if Lenny doesn’t show up for his hearing?” Sara asked.

“We’ll get a judge to issue a bench warrant for his arrest,” Anderson said.

“Thank you, sir,” Kincaid said, rising and shaking hands. Hand on her elbow, he led Sara out of the office. Walking near the bull pen, he spotted a desk with Lenny’s name on it, although another uniformed officer was sitting there.

On a hunch he stopped. “Excuse me, but are you a friend of Lenny Nelson?” he asked.

The dark-haired officer stopped typing on the computer. “You could say that.”

Kincaid introduced himself and Sara. She saw the flicker of recognition on the man’s face, the sudden respect as he heard Kincaid’s name. Was there anyone in the state who hadn’t heard of this man?

“Cole Darwin,” the officer said. “If you’re looking for Lenny, he’s not here.”

“I know that. Would you have any idea where we could find him?”

Darwin shrugged. “Could be anywhere. Lenny gets around.”

“Look,” Kincaid persisted, “I know he’s in trouble. I want to help, to talk with him, but he’s not at home and I don’t know where else to look.” He paused, waiting. “I’d be mighty appreciative.”

Cole sat up straighter, glanced to the left, then the right before leaning closer to Kincaid. “Try his apartment, 125 Hanover, off Mill Avenue. You didn’t hear it from me, okay?”

“Right. Thanks.” Hand on Sara’s arm, he guided her outside into bright sunlight.

Despite the heat, Sara felt a shiver take her. “An apartment? Why would Lenny need an apartment?” she asked, truly puzzled.

“We’re about to find out,” Kincaid said, although he thought he had a pretty good idea. When a married man kept an apartment, usually there was only one reason.

The Manderly Inn was actually two three-story apartment complexes, motel-style with a somewhat neglected courtyard between. At Kincaid’s knock, the manager ambled out of the lower unit facing the parking lot.

Middle-aged and short, wearing a gray T-shirt and chewing on a toothpick, the man squinted up at Kincaid. “You want to rent a place?” he asked. “We’ve got one on the third ready now and another on the first floor by next week.”

“No, that’s not why we’re here.” Kincaid showed him his badge.

He studied the badge for several seconds. “I’m Charley, the super. What do you need?”

“Lenny Nelson rents a place here, I understand. Is he around?”

Charley shook his head. “Haven’t seen Lenny since a week or so ago.”

“We need to see his apartment. Police matter.”

Charley’s amiable expression changed, turning wary. He fingered a brass ring of keys hanging from the belt loop of his faded jeans, searching for the right one as he led the way to the outside stairs. “Third floor, in back.” Climbing, he sneaked a glance at Kincaid. “I don’t want no trouble. Lenny’s a cop, too. He makes sure we keep things up to code, you know. We used to have trouble, dopeheads and deadbeats. But not since Lenny came along. He’s a good tenant. I run a clean, law-abiding place, you know.”

Sure you do, Sara thought as she followed the two men up the wooden stairway with a rickety railing.

“How long has he been renting here?” Kincaid asked.

“Almost a year now.” They stopped in front of a heavy door marked with a crooked “3-D.”

Sara braced herself as Charley knocked twice, waited a minute, called out, then unlocked the door.

“He’s coming back, ain’t he?” he asked, stepping back nervously.

“Thanks,” Kincaid said, noticing that the man looked as if he wanted to go in with them. “We’ll lock up when we leave.”

Charley hesitated, then reluctantly started back down when he realized no more information was forthcoming.

Kincaid turned on a cheap lamp before looking around. Industrial gray-green carpet, walls that had once been painted white, a sagging couch and chair, closed gold drapes hanging crookedly over a wide window. The lingering smoke of a thousand cigarettes mingled with accumulated dust.

“I wonder how many people have lived in this place,” Sara said out loud as she walked through the empty L-shaped dining room into a small kitchen.

“Plenty,” Kincaid muttered as he turned down the hallway. The first room held only a desk and a filing cabinet. A quick search proved both were empty. Next was the bath. He opened the mirrored medicine chest and saw a razor, shaving cream, toothpaste and a tube that turned out to be bright-pink lipstick. Two toothbrushes were stuck into a chipped glass.

Wandering to the large bedroom, he saw Sara standing in front of the open closet, her expression grim. A filmy robe in shades of blue hung alongside two police uniforms. On the floor were a pair of polished cop shoes and pale blue mules.

He touched her arm. “Are you surprised?”

“I shouldn’t be, should I? Not after learning what kind of marriage Lenny and Meg have. I wonder if she suspects.” She closed the closet door with disgust.

A double bed with rumpled sheets sat between two shaded windows. Sara felt moisture run down her spine in the oppressive heat of the apartment. On top of the maple dresser that had seen better days was a hairbrush with blond hairs tangled in it alongside a comb with two dark hairs intertwined. She couldn’t resist opening the dresser drawers. More clothes, women’s underwear, men’s briefs, two blue uniform shirts still in their laundry wrappers. On the bare floor next to the bed was the robe’s matching nightie, lying there as if hastily removed.

Kincaid opened the drawer of the lone nightstand and found only a box of condoms. He walked back to the living room.

Some things you’re better off not knowing, Sara thought as she trailed after him.

Kincaid was rummaging through the drawer of the end table. He removed several maps and papers as Sara leaned over for a closer look. “What did you find?”

He held them out one by one. “A hiking map of Coconino National Forest with a trail highlighted in yellow. Another map of northeast Phoenix with a route highlighted to Roosevelt Lake, with ‘widemouth bass’ written in the margin. And a brochure of Disneyland with some markings on it. Recognize these?”

Sara looked at the brochure and sucked in a quick breath. “Those notations on the Disneyland brochure were made by Mike. I recognize his handwriting. Do you think he brought that boy here, to this…this place?”

“Nah, he probably brought the stuff here so he could look them over away from his wife’s prying eyes.” Kincaid suspected he was wrong, but he didn’t want to upset her further.

He opened the second drawer and pulled out a marked-up racing form, several lottery tickets with a penciled line drawn diagonally through each and a brochure from Ak-chin Casino. Spreading out the brochure, he noticed a picture of a hotel and “Room 223” written alongside a price of $99 per night.

Sara’s shoulders sagged. “He’s not only an unfaithful louse but a gambler, as well.”

Kincaid agreed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Back in the Explorer, Sara let out a troubled sigh. “I just know he took Mike up there where he…where some woman—”

Kincaid took her hand in his and squeezed. “Don’t think about it.” He handed her the maps. “Let’s go somewhere and study these. Maybe we can figure out where they went.”

Too upset to respond, Sara just nodded.

“There’s a little Mexican restaurant on Mill Avenue. Let’s grab something to eat. I’m starved.”

Glancing at her strained face, her hands folded tightly together, Kincaid knew she was picturing Mike in that crummy apartment with her brother-in-law and maybe some woman he was seeing. That couldn’t be easy.

He found he badly wanted to remove that sad, frightened look from Sara’s beautiful eyes. But locating a man on a trip with his son, a father who’d left a note telling the mother not to worry, wouldn’t be easy. And if he found them, what would be the charge? Lenny could be planning to return for next Monday’s internal affairs hearing and unless he didn’t, there’d be no warrant out for his arrest. Kincaid’s investigation could be considered harassment.

Yet, despite all that, he wanted to help Sara.

Shifting, he turned out of the parking lot, then suddenly braked as he realized he’d been snared, caught up in a situation he’d promised himself he’d avoid, at least for a while.

“What’s wrong?” Sara asked, turning toward him.

“Nothing,” Kincaid muttered, easing into traffic. “Nothing at all.”

Feeling numb, Sara let Kincaid direct her to a table at Manuel’s. It was two o’clock, so the lunch crowd had thinned, leaving only one older couple just finishing and two young men sipping beer and munching on nachos. The mustached waiter brought them chips and salsa along with two big glasses of water, then left them to study the plastic-coated menus.

“What would you like?” Kincaid asked, inhaling the delicious spicy aromas.

“I’m not hungry,” Sara answered as she dug in her purse for a couple of aspirin. Her headache had gotten worse.

Kincaid waited until she’d swallowed the pills, then placed a hand over both of hers. He didn’t speak until she looked up and met his eyes. “Sara, you have to eat. You didn’t even taste the doughnut this morning. If you don’t keep up your strength, you won’t be any help to Mike.”

That got her attention. She desperately wanted to go with Kincaid on his search for Mike, if in fact he’d decided to take the case. If the only way to do that was to eat, she’d eat. “Okay, you order for me.”

He did, two frosted beers and two lunch specials, which, when they arrived steaming hot, Sara thought could easily feed four people. Waiting for a forkful of chili relleno to cool, she watched Kincaid shovel in his food as if it were room temperature. “You must have an asbestos-lined mouth,” she commented.

“Told you I was starved.” He took a swallow of the chilled beer and saw that she was finally eating. Thinking aloud, he said, “There’s so much gambling in Arizona now—racetracks, the Indian casinos, the state lottery. Too much temptation for some, I guess.”

The small burrito was delicious, Sara decided, her appetite returning somewhat. “I suppose so, but I had no idea Lenny was so into it. I’ve never heard him or Meg mention going to the track or spending an evening at a casino. Meg’s too cautious to gamble. He must be doing it on his own. Or with the blond woman who left her hairbrush behind.”

So she’d noticed that, too. “You have the makings of a fine detective,” he told her as he scooped a spoonful of refried beans.

“Mmm, I’m a regular sleuth.”

“So what do we know so far?” Kincaid began.

Thoughtfully she toyed with her Spanish rice. “Well, we know my brother-in-law has a seedy apartment where he takes a blond woman. Or perhaps several women. I know that Meg hasn’t a clue that he’s unfaithful, or she’d have thrown him out by now. We know he’s suspected of stealing and selling stuff to get money, probably to gamble. I imagine he wants more money than Meg is willing to give him. I don’t know what that apartment costs, but I’m sure he isn’t taking the money from his paycheck.”

Finished with his lunch, Kincaid sat back, thoughtfully nursing his beer.

“He’s taking a big risk with that apartment,” Sara continued. “Why not just rent a motel room occasionally?”

Kincaid noticed that she was eating steadily, though he doubted she was aware she’d nearly cleaned her plate. “Perhaps his allowance doesn’t cover the cost of motels.” Something was nagging at him, and he wondered if Sara had noticed it, as well. “What did you think of that nervous little manager?”

Sara tasted her beer, not her favorite drink, but it was refreshingly cold. “I wondered why he asked so many questions. And what did he mean that the complex used to have druggies and the like before, but not since Lenny came on the scene?”

He smiled, pleased that she’d caught that, too. “Kind of makes me wonder if Lenny had an arrangement with the manager—a free apartment for his protection.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

“Last time I checked.” Kincaid drained his glass. “We could go back there, and I’m sure I could get the manager to open up, but if Lenny’s still around this area, I don’t want him to know we’re checking on him.”

Surprised she’d eaten so much, Sara laid down her fork at last and drank some water. “So what do you suggest we do next?”

Kincaid shuffled through the camping maps, the fishing area and Disneyland brochure. “We know he’s taken Mike fishing before, so do you think he did again?”

“Maybe. I’d also promised I’d take Mike to Disneyland before summer’s end, so I doubt they went there. Mike loves the outdoors, camping, hiking. I just can’t figure why Lenny would take him along if he was doing something shady.”

“Does Lenny have a cell phone?”

“Yes, but I’ve already tried that. He’s got it turned off.”

“That’s odd. Seems like he doesn’t want anyone bothering him.”

“That’s probably true. Meg does a lot of checking up on him and he hates it.” She gazed at the papers spread out on the table. “If I had to choose, I’d say Lenny’s taken Mike camping somewhere. Last fall, I took him up this fairly rugged trail on a mountain just north of Flagstaff. There’s an old cabin up near the top by a clearing, probably built by a prospector years ago. Copper mining used to be big back then, but all the mines have been abandoned since. Anyhow, Lenny got so angry when I told him I didn’t want him along that he’s been cool toward me ever since. Maybe he’s taken Mike up himself because he knows I wouldn’t like it.”

“Why wouldn’t you like Lenny and Mike going hiking together? After all, he’s the boy’s father.”

She shrugged, her hands twisting her napkin. “He’s an on-again off-again father. He wouldn’t take Mike camping because he wanted to, but rather to make a statement, either to Meg or to me. He’s a show-off and doesn’t know the first thing about caring for Mike around dangerous places where the boy might get hurt. He fell once when he was out with Lenny, only about twenty feet I was told, and he escaped with just scratches. But it happened because Lenny urged him to get close to the edge to take a photograph.”

“Forgive me, but since you weren’t along, how do you know that? Sometimes kids get daring on their own.” Mike was a boy, after all, Kincaid thought, and boys took chances, rarely mindful of danger. She sounded overly protective. Maybe Lenny took Mike because Sara had been interfering too much.

Slowly she ripped the napkin in half, then in fourths. “You’re right, I wasn’t there. But Mike told me later when I questioned him. And he’s very honest.”

Honest to a degree, but likely unwilling to admit to his very loving aunt that he’d gotten careless. He watched as she continued to shred the napkin, a nervous habit, he decided. To stop her agitation, he took the napkin remnants from her and placed both his hands over hers to still her, then waited for her to look up.

His hands were large and powerful, Sara thought, yet his touch was tender. She felt warmth spread from where their hands were joined, bringing an unwelcome awareness. Finally she met his eyes, noticing that they were more pewter than green in the restaurant lighting. She felt an overwhelming urge to brush back the lock of curly black hair that had fallen onto his forehead, but she managed to suppress it. She realized he was awfully good-looking, not movie-star handsome, but with solid features attractively put together, a face you could trust.

Or could she? She’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, though it seemed longer. Her instincts told her he was honest, and his actions so far indicated that. Still, she knew him mostly by his reputation.

Dare she trust him?

Kincaid saw her lips quiver slightly and almost reached up to caress them. He hardly knew her, and though she’d told him a great deal in a short time, he had a feeling she was holding back something important. In his line of work he’d learned to read people, to determine character and personality quickly. Sara Morgan was hiding something, and only by getting closer to her would he discover what. Of course, he could…wait! He had to be losing his mind to even consider getting involved with her. Hadn’t he learned his lesson the hard way?

With no small effort, Kincaid withdrew his hands but held her gaze. “I have to say it again, Sara, that despite everything we’ve learned, there simply isn’t a case here.”

Her eyes filled with emotion so strong he had to look away. “Lenny’s a louse and it would seem he has some serious explaining to do to internal affairs. He’s also a cheating husband, but that’s between him and Meg. Maybe he went away with Mike because he knew that he was in trouble and might face jail time, so he had one last outing with the boy. I don’t know what his thinking was, but let’s just say we find them. Then what? He hasn’t done anything to his son that’s against the law, as far as we know.” He saw she was making an effort to control herself.

“I’m sorry, Sara. Really I am.”

She nodded, her eyes downcast as she reached for her purse and searched for her wallet.

“Please, allow me,” Kincaid said, tossing a twenty on the table.

Sara slid out of the booth, and they left the restaurant. The ride back to her home was quiet, the silence uncomfortable. Sara wondered where she’d turn next, who might help her. Probably no one since Kincaid’s reasons for refusing were sound. Anyone else would reach the same conclusions. But they didn’t know Lenny the way she did, and they didn’t love Mike. They also didn’t have a gut feeling that something was wrong.

She’d go it alone. She simply had to.

As they neared her condo, Sara gathered up the maps and brochures, putting them in her purse.

Kincaid thought he knew exactly what she was planning. “Don’t do it, Sara. Not only are you looking for a needle in a haystack, but you could be walking into a dangerous situation.” He glanced over at her, saw the stubborn set of her jaw and noticed that she wouldn’t look at him nor answer him.

“Damn it, Sara, don’t do this. Wait awhile and most likely they’ll be back. Lenny wouldn’t compound his problems regarding his thefts by not showing up on Monday for his date with internal affairs. That would be crazy.”

Sara felt she’d better answer him or he’d try to stop her some way. “I know. You’re right.”

Kincaid swore under his breath, knowing she was unconvinced. He turned onto her street, wondering how he could make her see. He swung into her parking lot and drove around back to the stairwell leading up to her condo. As he parked, he noticed a woman in a muumuu with red poppies get up off the third step and come toward them.

“I wonder why your sister’s here,” he said, pulling to a stop. Maybe Lenny and Mike were back and Sara could rest easy.

“I have no idea,” Sara answered, climbing out as Meg came closer.

Meg shot an annoyed glance at Kincaid, then stopped in front of her sister. “Why are you still with him?”

Sara ignored the question. “What are you doing here, Meg?” Her sister rarely visited, and this was the first time she’d come over and waited outside for Sara’s return.

Meg held up an envelope and waved it in front of Sara. “I came because of this. I found it stuck in my mailbox, but it didn’t come through the mail.”

Sara felt rather than heard Kincaid move directly behind her. “What is it?” she asked.

“It’s addressed to you, but I read it, anyway. It’s a ransom note demanding $230,000 for Mike’s release.”

Chapter Three

Seated on her living room sofa, Sara held the single sheet of paper in her trembling hands as Kincaid read over her shoulder. It was the same white eight-by-ten paper as the previous note, the same large, uneven handwriting.

Sara—I didn’t want it to come to this, but things have gotten worse since last month when you turned me down for a loan. I had no choice but to force you to see that I need the money.

Mike won’t get hurt, I promise, but I need you to do as I ask. Go to your bank and get $230,000 in unmarked hundreds and fifties. Drive to Flagstaff tomorrow and go to the post office on Porter Street at 10 a.m. Use the enclosed key and open box 225 for more instructions.

Pack for a hike. Come alone. No cops. I know you have the money so don’t try to bargain with me. Mike’s fine, but if you want to see him again, you’d better follow my orders. Lenny.

Stunned, Sara looked into the envelope and found the post office box key. Her eyes slowly raised to her sister who was standing with her arms crossed over her bosom protectively.

“Don’t look at me!” Meg said, her voice shrill. “None of this would have happened if you’d loaned Lenny some money last month. And now…” She sniffed, removing a tissue from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes. “He’s snapped, and my little boy is in danger.”

“He told you about asking me for a loan?” Sara asked, surprised.

“Yes. You don’t understand. He…we owe somebody money. A lot of money. You refused Lenny, so he had no choice left.”

What utter nonsense, Kincaid thought, to turn it around and try to make the whole thing Sara’s fault. “You knew nothing about this?” he asked Meg, indicating the note.

“Of course not!” Meg’s voice rose as her agitation increased.

Desperately trying to remain calm and think clearly, Sara stared at her sister. “Why would Lenny need that much money, Meg? And if he does, why don’t you go into your trust fund and help him out?”

“Because my trust fund money’s all gone,” she wailed, sitting down heavily in the pale green easy chair. “I’ve got a mortgage on the house and…and the bank won’t give me a second mortgage because they say Lenny’s job history is unstable. You know I can’t work with my bad back.”

Frowning, Sara leaned forward as Kincaid quietly took the note and studied it. “Where did all that money go, Meg?”

Meg’s tearstained face turned angry. “Where? Where do you think? It costs a lot to raise a child these days. And upkeep on the house and—”

“Stop!” Sara was growing impatient. “You can’t tell me it’s cost you a quarter of a million to raise Mike to age twelve. What about all the things I buy him? As for the house, I’m not stupid, Meg. It was free and clear when Dad died and in good shape. It’s badly in need of paint, repairs, all sorts of things. So I’m asking you again, where did the money go?” Could it be that her sister had also gambled?

Meg turned her furious gaze to Kincaid. “I don’t want to say any more in front of him. Tell him to leave.”

Sara knew she had to take a stand. “No. He’s staying. If you don’t want me to turn this note over to Lenny’s superior officer right now, answer me.”

As if in slow motion, Meg’s face crumpled and she burst into loud sobs. “We were going to stop, but…but things got out of hand. We had a lucky streak for a while, and I thought we could pay off everything, put the money back. But then things started to go wrong.”

Her suspicions were right, Sara thought. The evidence of gambling had been in Lenny’s apartment. Sara was seeing her sister in a new light. “You gambled,” she said wearily.

Meg looked up, sniffing, beseeching. “Only a little at first. For recreation, you know. Then more to make up for the losses and…and, well, it got real bad.” Her damp eyes implored Sara. “You’ve got to help me. My little boy…he needs his mother.” With that, she resumed her wailing.

Sara shook her head, wondering how she’d stumbled into this nightmare. “Meg, if Lenny so much as harms a hair on Mike’s head, I’ll hunt him down and make him pay.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t, Sara. No, no. Nothing like that. Lenny loves Mike. I know he wouldn’t harm him. Please, just do as he says so he can pay the men off and Mike can come home.”

“What men?” Sara demanded.

Meg waved a dismissive hand. “Just some men he borrowed from. They’re…they’re getting impatient.”

Had Lenny, a police officer, been stupid enough to go to a loan shark? Kincaid wondered. “Why would Lenny send the note to your house instead of directly to Sara?” He was having trouble believing the woman. Even her sobs seemed phony.

Meg swiped at her messy face. “I don’t have to answer your questions,” she bit off.

“Would you rather I call Lieutenant Anderson, because right now I’d like nothing better.” Sara’s voice was cold, accusatory.

Her face reddening, Meg shook her head. “I don’t know why he didn’t send the note here,” she murmured.

Sara’s shoulders slumped. “Go home, Meg.”

Rising, she stared at Sara. “What are you going to do?”

“Get Mike back,” was all Sara said, unable to look at her sister. Disappointment mingled with anger.

Looking beaten, Meg moved to the door, then swung back. “I really do miss Mike, Sara. Please, keep me informed.” With that, she left, clumping down the steps.

Sara lowered her head into her hands. After a moment she glanced at her watch and saw that it was three o’clock. “I have to get to the bank before it closes,” she said, jumping up.

“Wait, Sara!” Kincaid stood, turned her to face him. “I can help you with this.”

“The note said no cops,” she answered. “I’m afraid to take a chance. Lenny’s volatile and—”

“I didn’t mean we’d bring in the cavalry. Just me.” He gripped her upper arms. “First, there’s no way he’d know I’m a cop. Second, you don’t have to go to the bank. We have counterfeit money at my precinct that only an expert could detect, bills in all denominations that we use for things like this. Let’s stop there and pick up the right amount. Then we’ll go together. He said to pack for a hike, but you have no idea where he’s going to lead you. It’s too risky to go alone.”

Sara felt drained. “Look, I appreciate your offer, and I’m sorry I dragged you into this. But I was born in Arizona and I’ve hiked nearly every mountain trail there is. I’ll be all right.”

He felt he had to make her see. She was acting on emotion, not with a clear head. “Sara, it’s too damn easy to ambush a woman alone. Or a man alone for that matter. To overpower one person, take the money and run. Lenny sounds desperate. You can’t take that chance. Suppose those men who gave him a loan show up?”

Her eyes on his, she decided Kincaid was right. And she had asked him for help. Besides, finding lost or kidnapped children was his area of expertise. “But what if Lenny’s watching and sees you with me? He’s liable to hurt Mike and—”

“Not before he gets the money. Trust me on this.”

That made sense. Too exhausted to protest further, she nodded. “All right. I’ll go pack some things.”

After she disappeared into her room, Kincaid picked up the phone to call his precinct. Stanley Kisch was in charge of props. He got him on the line and quickly told him what he needed.

Kincaid had a sixth sense about these things. It had helped him in many cases and seldom let him down. Something wasn’t right here.

Meg Nelson seemed to be far more upset about having to confess their gambling habit to Sara than about her son being used as a hostage to blackmail her sister. Was it because she knew Lenny well enough to trust him not to hurt the boy? Was she perhaps in on the kidnapping scheme with her husband? Would she exploit her sister’s love for Mike to get money? Some pieces of the puzzle were missing.

Whatever they were, he meant to find them.

The police precinct where Kincaid worked was on a winding street in east Scottsdale, a low building shaded with eucalyptus trees and bordered by hibiscus in bloom. There was none of the hustle and bustle that she’d noted in Mesa, Sara thought as she followed Kincaid in. A sergeant at a raised desk on the left glanced up, then grinned.

“Hey, how you doin’, Kincaid?”

“Not bad, Riley.” He escorted Sara along a hallway that led to a large open room with a dozen or more desks, only a few were occupied. Indicating his desk near a window, he said, “Wait over there. I’ll be right back.”

Feeling conspicuous, Sara walked back and sat down in his chair. There were no others around the desk. Apparently Kincaid was neat as a pin. The desk held only a phone and a calendar turned to April. Had he been on leave that long?

Looking around, she noticed an officer in uniform using the hunt-and-peck method of typing, as an unkempt man in his twenties sat sullenly beside his desk. Another cop was on the phone and the only other officer in the precinct was a tall woman with jet-black hair pulled back into a secure twist at her nape. Sara swung the chair around and gazed out the window.

Had she made a mistake allowing Kincaid to get fake money and come with her? Truth be known, she felt better having him along, but what if Lenny had someone watching her? Why was he making her go so far to exchange the money? He’d likely taken Mike camping up one of the many trails around Flagstaff. Did the boy know what his father was up to? Probably not, because Mike had an innate sense of fair play and would give his father grief over blackmailing his aunt, no matter how sincerely Lenny explained his need for money. Had Mike been aware that his parents were gambling? If so, he’d never let on or seemed worried.

“Hello. I’m Trudy Wells,” a voice nearby said.

Sara swung around and found the female officer regarding her curiously. “Hello.” She saw no reason to introduce herself.

“Are you a friend of Kincaid’s?” Trudy asked, making herself at home by leaning a hip against the desk, her sharp gray eyes looking Sara up and down.

“Not exactly,” Sara answered. More like business associates, she supposed.

“I see.” Trudy wasn’t satisfied. “Are you working on a case with him?”

“You might say that.” Sara glanced down the hallway, wishing Kincaid would hurry back.

“He’s very good-looking, isn’t he?” Trudy asked, her manner unfriendly.

“I suppose.” Was this woman more than friends with Kincaid and letting Sara know it? “More importantly, I understand he’s very good at what he does.”

Trudy’s smile fell short of sincere. “Yes. We often work together. He’s the best. Are you…”

But she never finished her question as Kincaid approached, carrying a small leather satchel. He nodded to Trudy, then looked at Sara. “Ready to go when you are.”

“We were just getting acquainted,” Trudy purred as Sara walked around her. “Where are you two off to?”

“We’re in a hurry, Trudy.” Kincaid took Sara’s elbow and guided her outside and into his silver Explorer, leaving the annoyed officer staring after them.

As they pulled out of the police parking lot, Sara glanced back and saw Trudy at the door scowling in their direction. “Trudy seems a bit put out that you’re leaving with me.”

“Trudy’s often a bit put out,” he answered, dismissing the subject. “I’m driving to my place in Cave Creek to pick up some things and then we’ll head up north. Okay?”

“Yes. You got the money?”

He nodded as he swung onto the boulevard street. “Counted it twice.”

“Did you have to have authorization?”

“Minimal. I signed for it. After all this time, they pretty much trust me.” He glanced over at her. Earlier she’d changed into jeans and a man’s cotton shirt over a white tee. He couldn’t help but notice the telltale tension around her mouth, the worried look in her eyes. “Why don’t you lean back and relax? You’re wound as tight as a spring. We’re doing everything we can at the moment. We can’t do anything more until morning.”

Sara took in a deep breath. “I know, and I thank you. But I can’t help worrying. He’s a slight boy, you know. Not a tough kid. I…I just want him back.”

Kincaid’s big hand reached over to cover hers. “We’ll get him back, Sara.”

Even as he heard the words that he hoped reassured her, Kincaid felt a chill race up his spine. Yes, eventually they’d get Mike Nelson back. But would he still be alive and well? That was always the danger with a stressed-out, desperate kidnapper whose back was to the wall. Sometimes they killed accidentally and sometimes out of frustration. It was always a race against time, and the statistics weren’t in their favor.

Yet sometimes everything worked out and he got the kidnapped child back unharmed. He lived for those times.

Cave Creek was a laid-back, hilly town populated mostly by folks whose families had lived there for years. Kincaid turned off the main drag onto a dirt road that wound through the trees for more than a mile before reaching a large tan cinder-block ranch house. Sara noticed several outbuildings—a large aluminum horse barn and a smaller one farther down plus a big wooden building that looked to be a bunkhouse for his help. Two chestnut horses and a fawn-colored pony wandered about inside a fenced corral. A sleek yellow Labrador came bounding over to meet them, giving off a few welcoming barks as the Explorer stopped in front of a wide carport housing a white truck and a black Jeep.

“When you said you had a ranch, I had no idea it was such a big spread.”

“Only twenty acres. We sold off the rest. We breed some fine quarter horses, board others, train some for show.” Getting out, he greeted the big Lab. “Hey, Iago! How you doing, boy?” He stroked the big dog’s neck, then glanced over and saw that Sara was still inside. “It’s okay. He won’t bother you as long as I’m with you.”

Cautiously she got out and turned to see another yellow Lab come strolling forward, slowed by a very late pregnancy. She watched Kincaid bend to rub behind the dog’s ears.

“How’s it going, Juno?” he asked as the heavy dog offered her belly for a little scratching while Iago stood guard. They made quite a picture with the late-afternoon sun dappling shadows through the leafy trees.

Moving toward them, Sara hid her surprise. “I see someone likes Shakespeare and mythology.” She held out her hand tentatively, and Iago sniffed it, deciding she was acceptable.

Squinting up at her, Kincaid grinned. “Yeah, us old country boys read a book now and then.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, sure. You uppity Scottsdale folk think everyone up our way chews tobacco, listens to Willie Nelson and eats charbroiled steak every night.”

Angling her head, she saw he was trying to lighten her mood. “Well, don’t you?”

“Yeah, mostly.” He straightened and nodded toward the wide, shaded porch. “Come inside where it’s cooler while I throw a couple things in a bag.”

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